


Power Play

by Amsare



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: BDSM, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>What kind of man betrays his friends like this, Allan?</i>
</p><p> Allan would kill his conscience if he only could: there's this voice in his head that makes him feel guilty and it's not easy shutting it up. </p><p>  <i>Are you enjoying yourself?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Power Play

**Author's Note:**

> I ship Guy and Allan so hard - I had to write something about them. English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! Enjoy your reading.

_What kind of man betrays his friends like this, Allan?_

 

Allan would kill his conscience if he only could: there's this voice in his head that makes him feel _guilty_ and it's not easy shutting it up.

 

_Are you enjoying yourself?_

 

Sometimes it seems like hearing Robin's voice ashamed of what his loyal friend has become, but it can’t be real, it just can’t be. Robin doesn’t know that Allan’s playing for both sides – Robin’s and Gisborne’s – he’s completely unaware of where Allan is at that time of the night.

 

He wouldn’t believe it: _I’m on my knees in your old room in Locksley Manor performing oral sex, but it’s not a big deal, isn’t it Robin? We’re good, right?_

 

"Keep sucking, _Allan_."

 

The way that man says his name makes him shiver, pleasure pooling down in his groin – _oh, god_ – there's a gloved hand on his head, gripping him tight and making him stay still, while the other one is on his chin; a finger teases his mouth making open it wider than already is.

 

"Very good."

 

His jaw hurts and his throat is sore but worst of all he likes it – he craves it. Guy's musky scent mixed with the usual leather one is delicious, exciting; controlling his gag reflex isn’t a piece of cake but there’s no way that Allan is going to be a disappointment for Gisborne.

 

_Is this what you’ve wanted to do in your life? Being on your knees, used like a whore by someone like Guy of Gisborne?_

Guy pushes his cock deep down Allan's throat, cursing, twisting painfully the hair in his hand when finally he retrieves just to make him breathe; the young man on his knees looks up, eyes watering, harsh breath.

 

_Do you feel proud?_

 

"What is it?" Guy murmurs with a smirk, still gripping Allan’s head tightly – he would have fallen on the floor if he hadn't – taking himself with his free hand, hissing at the touch of the leather glove. "Thank me, Allan. Thank me for what I'm giving to you. "

 

Allan tries to speak but it's too hard, so he licks his lips, feeling spit cooling down his skin – god, he's a complete mess – and he tries again, hoarse voice. "Thank you."

 

"Thank you, _Sir_." Guy corrects him, keeping on pleasuring himself just where Allan's face is.

 

Allan knows that what excites Guy the most is the power play between them, being in total control of his pleasure – he wants it as much as him. This man has spent all his life promising his loyalty to someone else and stripped of his own freedom that he needs to be the one in control for once.

 

This is why Guy has kept Allan in the first place – not only to be his spy – but to be his second in command, his little secret from the Sheriff; someone to dominate in a pure, simple, political power play.

 

To Guy's eyes, what is happening in the dark of his room it's only this, nothing more.

 

"Thank you, Sir." Allan says, looking at him from where he's kneeling – he can't feel his legs anymore, hard wooden floor against his knees. He wishes he could free himself from his ruined leather breeches, his hard cock twitching painfully constricted. "I do thank you, Sir." He repeats, trembling for the desire.

 

Guy is delighted hearing it and a moan of pleasure slips from his lips while he keeps moving his gloved hand up and down his erection, enjoying every single instant of it – making a show of it.

 

"Do you want to come?" he asks with low voice "Do you?"

 

Allan doesn't keep him wait – he's going to burst – he needs it, he needs it. "Oh, yes!"

 

_How can you stoop so low?_

 

Guy smirks "Beg, let me hear you." He's approaching his climax too, he's nearly there but he needs something more.

 

_Submission._

_Obedience._

 

_How can you be so desperate?_

 

"Please, sir, _please_."

 

"You may come after I have." A simple concession, just like the others. "Keep going from where you left off, make it good for me, I don't have all the night."

 

_Neither do you Allan, you have to come back to your friends at the camp – what would they say if they only knew what you do in Locksley? What if they knew it's Gisborne you spend your night with instead of some random peasant girl?_

 

 _Shut up_ , Allan thinks, focusing on what he has to do right now: he puts his hand on Guy's hips, holding himself up as he lean on to lick that long hard cock with lust. He tries to not mind to his own still trapped in his breeches, frustration as strong as his excitement when he's opening his mouth _again_ and Guy moans – a hot, filthy sound which Allan will never be tired of hearing.

 

That's the point of no return, when Allan decides to move one hand to gently fondle the base of that long cock, stimulating it – "Don’t stop" – driving the man insane, making him fall apart.

 

He whines when Guy retrieves from his mouth abruptly, coming on Allan's face rather than down his throat, _marking_ him on his skin; Allan can't hold back any longer, trembling hands undoing his breeches just to spring his erection free.

 

_Don't you know any shame?_

 

Allan grips a hand tightly around himself, a desperate sigh of relief slips from him at the so craved touch; two fingers under his chin urge him to lift his head up, meeting Guy's eyes and – the look so firm, so proud – that's what makes him finally come on the wooden floor, hot pleasure spreading through his body.

 

"Nice job." Guy murmurs pleased as he caresses softly Allan's chin, collecting a few beds of come from his cheek with his thumb; Allan licks it clean fervently under his attentive gaze, savouring his master’s taste.

 

_No, apparently you do not._

Guy tucks himself in, tying his breeches as nothing has just happened. "Clean it up." He says pointing at the mess Alan has made on the floor; he goes toward his bedside table to pour himself some water while Allan wipes out the floor with a hand and brush it off on his dirty shirt. He gets up stumbling on his feet, legs hurting.

 

He watches carefully as Guy drinks from a glass, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat: Allan feels a new, urging _desire_ spreading deep inside himself – he cannot help it.

 

He should be ashamed of it but he’s not.

 

Guy is washing his hands from a bowl of water when he looks at Allan questioningly. “Well? You are dismissed.”

 

All that desire means nothing now and Allan knows that he should be going before it’s too late.

 

“Goodnight.” He murmurs as he exits the room, not daring to look at Guy one more time; when he’s finally out of the manor he starts to run as fast as he can ignoring the pain in his chest, getting ready to be the loyal Allan-a-Dale of Robin Hood.

 

_How long will you stand all this?_

 

The answer is very simple: he just wants to survive, preventing a sentence to death and hanged in the main square the morning after.

 

_Surviving is not the same as living your life truly, you know._

He stops against a tree in the forest, catching his breath. He inhales deeply, smelling Gisborne’s scent still on himself and he’s sure of one thing at this point: if he has to survive, this is not the most terrible thing that could have ever happened to him.

 


End file.
